Eyeshield 21 Drabbles
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Collection of my ES 21 short fic: yaoi, gen, het, etc. See individual heading on each piece for specific information.
1. Luck

**1.**

**Title:** Luck  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing/Character/s: **Mamori, Sena, Hiruma**  
Word Count:** 261  
**Warning/s: **Erm, no spoilers I can think of?  
**Summary:** Hiruma has a special kind of luck.  
**Dedication:** Idiosyn- she has stolen my first Eyeshield fic. **  
A/N: **I think I never wrote Eyeshield before for a reason. I'm no good at it. --;;

* * *

"Erg, I don't believe how lucky he is!" Mamori exclaims, looking frustrated.

Sena blinks up at her. "Who are you talking about?" he asks politely, though he thinks he knows the answer already anyway, because she only gets that crease in-between her eyebrows when she's talking about one person in particular.

"Hiruma!" she replies all the same, obviously still put-out at whatever it was he'd done to her _today_.

Sena laughs awkwardly and asks, "What happened this time?"

She crosses her arms and huffs. "The same thing as yesterday! And the day before! And the day before! I don't understand how someone like that can have such good luck!"

Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Sena assures her that it's okay, he doesn't mind running with the team and doing exercises even though he's not a player.

"It must be so hard for you," she sighs, looking like his predicament is somehow, all her fault. "Don't worry Sena! His luck can't last forever! Tomorrow I'll definitely win that coin toss! Then you won't have to practice like that for the rest of the week!"

She looks so determined about it that he elects to refrain from reminding her that "the rest of the week" consists solely of Friday at this point. More importantly, he decides (once again) to not tell her about the fact that Hiruma doesn't _believe_ in luck.

At least, not the kind he hasn't already made for himself long beforehand.

He half suspects she enjoys quarrelling with Hiruma anyway, and with a sigh, he smiles and thanks her for her diligence.

**END **


	2. Aptitude

**2.**

**Title:** Aptitude   
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing/Character/s: **JyuumonjixSena**  
Word Count:** 817  
**Warning/s: **No spoilers I can imagine…  
**Summary:** Jyuumonji has the ability. He just needs the motivation.  
**Dedication:** Seca- she requested some more JyuuxSen from me, and since she's like, one of the three people besides me who OTP them, I guess I just have to do my part! XD  
**A/N: **Haha um… the prompt was Jyuumonji trying to get Sena's attention in class. This is what I managed to come up with?

* * *

He'd noticed how Sena's eyes lit up with a sort of surprised awe whenever Yukimitsu-senpai said something, whenever the older boy showed off that intelligence of his unwittingly and managed to amaze the little runningback as easy as one-two-three.

Wide-eyed smiles and impressed laughter, a kind of fond respect—all that for a few measly minutes of homework help? For answering a question or two?

Jyuumonji snorts to himself and thinks that he could do the same thing just as easily, if he put his mind to it.

Wouldn't be very hard at all, really.

Doesn't mean he's gonna stoop that far, of course. Doesn't mean he's going to go further than bare-minimum-passing in his studies just for an extra smile or two from the twerp, for some happily surprised laughter or even that wide-eyed, fond respect Sena likes to dish out to Yukimitsu.

It's not his style. Not his…

"It's a bit of a trick question, but you guys will need to know this next year or the year after anyway. Can anyone tell me what the derivative of this equation is?"

He blinks at the teacher's almost sly question, and to his horror, the blonde lineman feels his hand lifting of—seemingly—its own accord.

On either side of him, Kuroki and Toganou look on incredulously.

"Huh?"

"_Huh!_"

Ironically enough, it's their sensei who tacks on the final, "Huh?"

And then the whole class is staring at him like the bastards never expected this type of behavior from Kazuki— to be honest, neither did_ he_— and trying not to feel like a complete moron, the blonde grits his teeth and holds his hand up just a little higher.

Might as well go out like a man.

The teacher, recovering himself just a bit, adjusts his glasses. "Um, Jyuumonji-kun…do…do you need to go to the restroom?"

The blonde scowls. "Er…I was gonna answer the question."

Silence.

And then. "Um…well, haha don't worry about it, it's really a trick question. You see we haven't gone over that sort of stuff yet…you probably won't even see it again until at least the first week or so of calculus your third year and…"

"For linear equations the derivative's the same as the slope. A derivative of a function 's just another function that measures the rate the original function's changin' at. It's uh… just 2x in this case, like we figured earlier, solvin' for slope. But um… the way you find derivatives changes with different sorts of functions."

Silence.

Jyuumonji takes a deep breath and lowers his hand, leans back into his chair.

Kuroki and Toganou gape on either side of him. Not so much because they hadn't expected him to know the answer, but mostly because he'd actually stood up and participated in class so he could relay it.

Everyone else however, is waiting for sensei to say something about how wrong the blonde had been. That he couldn't possibly be…

"Erm…that's…well. That's very good, Jyuumonji-kun. Ah…thank you."

Something like incredulous murmuring breaks out across the classroom after sensei says that, and embarrassed, Kazuki crosses his arms and looks down at his desk as the teacher tries to get everyone to stop acting as shocked as they are in a valiant attempt to continue the math lesson as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Jyuumonji scowls to himself and thinks that he shouldn't have done that. Doesn't know what possessed him to even try, really. Definitely not his style.

A familiar voice is suddenly addressing him though, not very loudly, but somehow, coming out over the din the rest of the class is making and into the lineman's ears all the same. "Wow, Jyuumonji-kun! That was really amazing."

He blinks and looks up from his desk then, feeling something like a blush suffuse his cheeks when he realizes who exactly, is talking to him.

Sena's looking at him from his seat further up in the row, turned around and smiling at the taller boy with an awed kind of delighted surprise.

Kazuki swallows. "Erm…well. Che. Stuff I thought everybody knew," he murmurs in response, trying not to sound as pleased as he is with his smaller teammate's praise.

Sena beams all the same. "Still… that was pretty um, cool," the runningback manages, blushing a bit as well and chuckling to himself a bit sheepishly before turning back around to pay attention to the lesson again.

Jyuumonji watches him, feeling oddly warm when he thinks about the brown-haired boy's smile just now.

After a moment, he settles more comfortably in his chair and starts jotting down notes from the algebra lesson. The first ones he's taken all year.

And as he does, he can't help but think to himself that maybe what all those adults are always saying is true—if you really want something, all you have to do is apply yourself a little bit.

**END**


	3. Sasuga Banchou!

**3.**

**Title:** Sasuga Banchou!  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **TogaxRui**  
Word Count:** 614  
**Warning/s:** Crack pairing, OOCness up the wazoo, but no spoilers I can imagine.   
**Summary:** Rui brings something special back, Toga's curious.  
**Dedication:** shinigamikender- requested on my lj.  
**A/N: **The theme was "curiosity killed the cat" and Rui, but I added Toga 'cuz I can't help it. And yeah, still trying to figure out an Eyeshield voice, especially with these characters I haven't really written lots of. Um, hard, but I guess I'll find my way eventually. Hopefully. O.o

* * *

When Rui returns with something small bundled up gently in his jacket it prompts Toga to look up from his manga (a feat in itself) and ask, "Huh?" in such a manner that Rui knows he actually means, _"The hell is that?"_

"Nothin'," he says in response, eyeing the other boy casually and moving to slip into the kitchen before any other pointless questions can be asked.

Except his jacket mews.

Toga blinks. "Huh?" he grunts, and Rui knows it means, _"Cat_?"

The linebacker sighs. "Cat," he confirms, before moving into the kitchen anyway.

Toga stands, moves to follow Rui confusedly. "Thought you went to get drinks?" he asks, one hand carefully keeping his page marked in the latest volume of One Piece.

"Che. I did," Rui mutters, setting the bundle down on his kitchen counter and wondering why he lets the lineman lounge around here as much as he does. He unwraps his jacket and then there's a little calico face peeking up at them, looking scared and dirty and pathetic.

It mewls and Toga stares at it. "Huh."

"Some bastard kids chasin' after her on their bikes," he explains nonchalantly.

Toga frowns. "You kick their asses?"

Rui doesn't even deign to acknowledge such a stupid question with a real answer, moves to get a cloth and some soap and water instead. "Didn't even get a scratch on me," he chortles after a moment. "Damned brats better know who they're goin' against next time." Pause. "Stop starin' at the damned cat'n make yourself useful, Toga."

Toga grunts at Rui's tone and thinks he maybe should've ignored his own curiosity and stayed in the living room and kept reading.

The kitten mewls at him again and then he's automatically padding over to the fridge after a second, digging through it for some leftover salmon he remembers seeing and milk he hopes hasn't gone bad yet. You never know with Rui's place.

He microwaves a dish of milk once he deems it won't kill the stupid cat and sets out another one with some crushed salmon while Rui wipes her off.

Toga watches the other two inhabitants of the room absently. "So… you gonna keep her?" he asks after a minute or two.

Rui finishes cleaning her, tosses the dirty rag off to the side with his equally dirty jacket. "The hell would I do that for?"

Toga shrugs. "Kinda cute, I guess. And ain't ya curious to see how she turns out when she gets big? You know, now that ya saved her."

Rui eyes him. "I don't care. You take her then."

Toga blinks. "Hey, I wasn't the one who brought her home on a whim. 'Sides, this is your place."

They watch her eat a little longer.

Toga reaches out and tentatively scratches her behind the ears. She mewls cutely and arches into his fingers.

Rui blinks. "Dammit, now I'm curious."

Toga grins a little bit, keeps petting her with just his fingertips, because she's too small for his whole hand just yet. "Yeah? Well…I guess maybe, we could both keep her, or somethin'."

They look at each other.

After a minute, she very calmly pees on the counter. It stains the cover of Toganou's One Piece manga, which he'd set down there when he'd gone to get her food.

They look at the puddle for a little bit.

And then Rui promptly picks her up and pushes her into Toga's arms. "Er right, you get her first."

Toga stares down at his handful of kitten, and she meows up at him.

He sighs to himself and looks at his ruined manga, thinking that he definitely should've stayed in the living room.

**END**


	4. Fangirled

**4.**

**Title:** Fangirled   
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **TakamixSakuraba**  
Word Count:** 700  
**Warning/s:** Erm, light spoilers for ep 38 of the anime and upwards? Sort of?   
**Summary:** Takami and Sakuraba have… a lunch.  
**Dedication:** yumeiro- hope this is okay! Never wrote these two before. O.o  
**A/N: **The request was TakamixSakuraba and the theme is "lunch." Yup, still experimenting with this whole ES21 universe. Forgive me. o.o;;

* * *

Even with the new look Sakuraba is recognized by thousands of people—hardcore fangirls and the press mostly— and as such, the blonde receiver is constantly bombarded with presents or camera flashes, by questions and declarations of love wherever he goes. 

Takami adjusts his glasses and smiles fondly when some press people catch wind of the two Oujou players having a quiet lunch together at a small outdoor café one Saturday afternoon, and before too long, the place is alight with clicking cameras and microphones.

"Sakuraba-kun, why the new look?"

"Sakuraba-kun, we heard you took a leave of absence from Jerry Productions, please elaborate!"

"Sakuraba-san, will you marry me?"

"Can I have your autograph?"

The blonde looks around sheepishly, trying to answer one question and then another right after without seeming rude, because even though he's tried to step out of the spotlight, these people still follow him, still have an interest. It's not something he wants to be cruel about.

But at the same time…he shares an apologetic look over the table with Takami as the press surrounds him in their efforts to try and figure out why, maybe, this up-and-coming young man had suddenly tried to drop off the face of the print and news media universe.

Takami sits quietly by and pulls his and Sakuraba's plates out of the reach of the reporters, who would very casually elbow it aside given the chance to create more room. He stands after a moment, and the space he vacates is instantly swarmed with more fans, more press. Sakuraba looks at him helplessly from the sea of people, managing a weak, "Taka---urgh," before another microphone is shoved into his face.

Takami very quietly moves inside the café holding the plates, and asks if the waiter wouldn't mind very much, if they could make theirs a to-go order instead.

He stands outside afterwards, and bag in hand, watches as Sakuraba talks to his admirers, tries to cut it short before standing to leave. They follow of course, and while Takami would like nothing more than to go in and pull the blonde out of that mess, he knows how these things work, doesn't want to injure or perturb the people who have the power to tarnish the reputation of a good person like Sakuraba.

Sakuraba is practiced enough at this anyway, and before _too_ much longer, he manages to slide out from the group with as much graciousness as possible, and after a moment or two of calm-down he finally regains sight of Takami.

There's an apology on the tip of Sakuraba's tongue when he jogs up to his teammate, but the quarterback simply smiles and pushes the bag containing their boxed-lunches into the blonde's hands.

"Taka… I um, sorry about…" he trails off, almost wanting to say _"the date"_ before he realizes that it sounds too girly. "Sorry about lunch," he says instead, guiltily.

Takami smiles and reaches out to ruffle the short-cropped blonde hair, eyeing the go-boxes clutched in Sakuraba's arm like, well, like how one would clutch a football. "Lunch is still here. We can reheat it and eat at my house, ne?" he suggests.

Sakuraba, embarrassed, looks down at the lunches too. "Is that really okay?"

"Of course." Takami calmly drapes an arm around the other player's shoulders and begins guiding him in the direction of his home. "After all, maintaining proper nutrition on a consistent basis is very important for athletes like you and I, ne?"

Sakuraba frowns at the quarterback's clinical analysis of everything. "Y-yeah, I guess."

Takami notices his teammate's tone, tries not to chuckle outright. Very gently, he squeezes the shoulder his hand is resting against. "And most importantly," he starts after a moment, "is that we get to eat together. How or where doesn't matter, ne?"

Sakuraba blinks at that, turns slowly to look at Takami. Swallows. "Y-yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sakuraba smiles then, and wordlessly, they head back to Takami's to sit at his couch and watch old NFL games, eating microwaved café lunches out of take-out boxes together and enjoying every minute of it.

It's the best lunch ("date" is _still_ too girly) Sakuraba can remember having in a long time.

**END**


	5. Blocker

**5.**

**Title:** Blocker  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing/Character/s: **lightly JyuumonjixSena, Hiruma**  
Word Count:** 662  
**Warning/s:** No spoilers I can imagine.  
**Summary:**. Hiruma's drills are always imaginative.  
**Dedication:** for anikkabaka, who requested this over on my lj.  
**A/N: **The theme of the request was "first times"- I dunno, I'm still all about making them cutely oblivious.

* * *

The first time Jyuumonji tackles Sena it's during practice at Hiruma's behest, because "the damned wimp" needs to learn how to take real hits. 

The quarterback had fired at the blonde's feet later for holding back, and Jyuumonji had frowned at that, because he didn't think he'd been holding back at all.

But knowing better than to argue, he'd simply snorted and said, "What's the point of hurting him during practice when no one else is fast enough to tackle him that hard anyway?"

Hiruma had grinned and the sunlight had glinted of his teeth, making them look like razors. "Because he has to know what he's trying to avoid. Because there will always be someone fast enough to tackle him. Because if it does happen he'll know how to fall and not break his damned skinny legs. Take your pick."

And maybe Hiruma had just been baiting him or something, but for some reason the idea of Sena being tackled hard enough to break something made him clench his teeth.

Because as he'd heard those words come out of Hiruma's mouth, his first thought had been, _"he won't ever get hit that hard, because it's my job to protect him." _

He'd chalked it up to Hiruma offending his sentiment as a lineman and a blocker at first, and that philosophy lasts him for at least a day. Jyuumonji realizes it might be his pride as something else altogether after the second time he's made to tackle Sena (at practice the following afternoon), because as he grabs the tense runningback around the waist at a dead run, intent on proving to that damned shitty quarterback that he doesn't hold back on anything, something inside him cringes and right before they hit the ground he twists in the air reflexively, arms snug around Sena's waist as he makes sure to land so that his back hits the ground before any part of the smaller boy does.

There's a moment of silence as the rest of the team witnesses this, and even Sena turns to look down at Jyuumonji, eyes wide with surprise, his expression just barely visible to the blonde from under the glint of his green visor.

"Jyuumonji-san…"

The blonde blinks, and a rather dumbfounded, "Er…" is all he manages to croak out by way of explanation before a bright explosion of automatic-rifle bullets breaks the spell.

"The hell are you doing, you damned idiotic lineman!" Hiruma demands, though there's a glint in his eye that Jyuumonji is learning to associate with the gears in the quarterback's head turning, working quick and evil to find a way to use this new development to his advantage (if he hasn't already).

And then Sena, trying to divert the quarterback's anger, turns back to Hiruma quickly and blurts a pathetic, "I'm sure it was my fault, Hiruma-san! I probably fell wrong again and Jyuumonji-san saw it and so before I hit the ground he…"

The gunfire stops then, prompting Sena to trail off, and Jyuumonji vaguely realizes that he's still on the ground holding the little brown-haired boy by the waist while everyone else continues to sort of look dumbly at them.

Well, everyone except for Hiruma, who's suddenly smirking like he's got an idea.

"New drill," he declares abruptly, turning to Toganou and Kuroki off to the side. "You two."

"Huh?"

"_Huh?" _

The blonde's fangs flash. "Your objective for this drill…" he turns mid-sentence to point dramatically at Sena, "is to corner and tackle Eyeshield!"

Toga and Kuro blink.

Sena visibly winces in Jyuumonji's arms.

"As for you…" Hiruma continues, turning to the last of the Ha-ha kyoudai with a flourish that can only be described as demonic, "…your job is to make sure these two don't get him."

"…huh?"

And by the light of Hiruma's smile, Jyuumonji can't help but feel like he's being taken advantage of, somehow.

But he stands and does his damndest to defend Sena from Toga and Kuro anyway.

**END**


	6. Faster than a Speeding Bullet

**6.**

**Title:** Faster than a Speeding Bullet  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **Hiruma, Sena (but most everyone)**  
Word Count:** 425  
**Warning/s:** No spoilers I can imagine.  
**Summary:** Hiruma lets the Devilbats know his conditions.  
**Dedication:** for merboo- been so long since I wrote any ES21. dies  
**A/N: **The theme of the request was "_ceasefire_"- this should be interesting.

* * *

They thought he wasn't listening because he wasn't in the room with them, but he heard them all the same.

He had his methods.

And so he knew how Jyuumonji and Kuroki and Toganou grunted and complained about how they always got shot at even when they accomplished the crazy quarterback's hell task of the day, whether they were pushing 400-pound blocks of ice with their foreheads or lifting Kurita up one at a time and jogging him across the field in less than a minute.

"Why the hell does he keep firing his goddamned guns at us?" one would grunt, and the other two would make like noises of discontent.

"He should be concentrating on the stupid monkey," Kuroki added, and looked sideways at Monta. "He's the one that needs the most work."

"Don't look at me!" Monta clucked, and showed off his slightly blistered palms. "I haven't dropped a ball _once_!"

"Tch. Then it's the dumbass's fault," Toganou grunted, and looked over at Taki.

Taki kept spinning and marveling at his abilities all to himself. No one really wanted to talk to him.

"Hiruma is encouraging us!" Kurita defended his best friend, meekly. "He just wants us to be better, ne?"

"By pissing us the hell off," Jyuumonji muttered, though didn't really say anything else about it because Sena was beginning to look troubled, and everyone knew he kind of hated that.

Hiruma walked into the locker room then, and everyone grew silent. He supposed it was time to at least give them some knowledge of the limits they were working within.

Sort of like letting wild horses run around in the coral until they got used to the size of the enclosed space.

So he cocked his P-90 and let it rest against his shoulder, glancing dully around the room and it's suddenly quiet inhabitants.

Time to let them know what they were working against.

"I'll stop shooting," he started by way of greeting, and everyone winced, "when _he_," he pointed at Sena, "can outrun my goddamned bullets."

Silence. Not only silence, but an impressive complete lack of motion too.

Hiruma cackled and strolled out of the locker room popping bubble gum.

Slowly, everyone moved to stare at Sena.

"Well," Monta said, and pat his friend on the back heartily. "Time to get to work then, ne?"

"We're counting on you," everyone agreed, and strolled casually out of the room.

Sena wasn't sure if he was flattered at everyone's faith or horrified at how deftly Hiruma had turned the blame on him.

**END**


	7. Lost

**7.**

**Title:** Lost   
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing/Character/s: **Shin, Takami**  
Word Count:** 391  
**Warning/s:** No spoilers I can imagine. Lots of OOC I'll bet, though.  
**Summary:** Machines don't like Shin.  
**Dedication:** for tokkitsu- THIS WAS SO HARD.  
**A/N: **The theme of the request was "_technology_." Um.

* * *

"It broke," Shin explained simply, and held the components of the coach's expensive handheld GPS device in his upturned palms.

Takami sighed and looked down at the pathetically buzzing pieces of technology Shin was holding out to him. "You mean you broke it," he said, and wasn't quite sure how to tell his teammate that this time, he probably couldn't fix it.

"It should have been stronger," Shin grunted, palms still cradling the gadget and waiting for the quarterback to work his mysterious scientific magic on it.

It crackled then, and Takami almost thought the GPS device sounded a little bit indignant.

"Or you should have been gentler," he chastised, finally giving in and scooping up the little electronic bits into his own hand. He looked at it a bit mournfully. It had been really nice. Strong. Army issue. "You should probably go tell coach that you broke it."

"He wasn't in his office. Or on the field," Shin said, and his tone of voice suggested that he'd been expecting to find the old man in either the locker room or the weight room here when he'd come in.

Takami looked thoughtful. "I think he might have gone to the AV room to talk to the staff about recording the next home game."

"AV room," Shin echoed, and cocked his head to the side.

Takami stared at him. "Audio Visual?"

"Hm," Shin said, and eyed the failing GPS device in Takami's hand for a moment.

Takami looked back, incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "The AV room. It's on campus. It's part of our school." It wasn't anything the football team often went to see of course, but Takami really thought Shin should maybe take the time to learn about things at Oujou that went beyond the field, the locker room, the weight room, the trainer's clinic, and the coach's office.

"Hm," Shin grunted in like, and turned to leave. "I'll find it."

Takami sighed. "No, no. It's okay. I'll take you."

They walked along without saying anything for a little bit, and it was only after they'd made the fifth or six turn down the stonework corridors of Oujou that a thought struck the tall quarterback. "Shin," he started, and adjusted his glasses curiously, "how do you get to class?"

Silence for a moment.

And then, "Sakuraba."

**END**


	8. Locker Room

**8.**

**Title:** Forward Motions  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **JyuumonjixSena, vague references at HirumaxMamori**  
Word Count:** 451  
**Warning/s:** OOC, fluff, sap, etc., etc…. no real spoilers though.  
**Summary:** Locker room memories.  
**Dedication:** for Seca's request on my lj.  
**A/N: **The theme of the request was "_locker room"_… I could have done something really perverted with this.

* * *

The day that Jyuumonji confessed to him they'd been in this very locker room, just the two of them after practice while all the others had gone ahead and left before them mysteriously, herded out impatiently by Toganou and Kuroki just a little while before.

Sena remembers Jyuumonji being so nervous that he'd had to do it with his helmet still on.

Sena had had to stand on one of the benches so he was level with Jyuumonji because he couldn't quite hear him with his headgear muffling his words and the height difference to top it all off, and when the runningback took the blond's helmet off after he'd managed to get all the words out it was the first time they'd ever been able to look one another right in the eye-to-eye and smile.

Their first kiss was in this locker room too, right before practice when Sena had been about to put his helmet on and jog onto the field with everyone else. They'd lingered in the back a little bit and then Jyuumonji had suddenly grabbed his arm before he could leave and moved to peck his cheek. Sena had abruptly turned at being tugged though, and when their lips brushed—just the slightest bit misaligned, but perfect all the same-- the blond had looked a mixture of mortified and happy while Sena had turned bright pink and quickly put his helmet on. That day, Hiruma made them each run fifty laps to make up for being late to practice.

Jyuumonji doesn't even remember running a single one, though they'd both finished in record time.

When they first told everyone that they were going out with one another it had been here in this locker room too, and Hiruma had put his feet up on a nearby table and told them to shut up because they were supposed to be planning strategy for the next big game and everyone already knew anyway.

Mamori hadn't, to be fair, but Hiruma never really counts her as anyone in the grand scheme of things. Sena suspects it's because he likes her, but he's too scared to say it out loud for fear of Hiruma opening fire on him.

All in all, Jyuumonji and Sena both have lots of good memories in this locker room, and even though it kind of smells like sweat on the days that Mamori doesn't go around and replace all the air fresheners and clean up after practice, the two of them generally regard it as one of their most favorite places.

Sometimes Sena wonders, blushingly, if he'll end up losing his virginity in the locker room one of these days too.

Jyuumonji's working on it.

**END**


	9. Style of Play

**9.**

**Title:** Style of Play  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **TakamixSakuraba  
**Word Count:** 826  
**Warning/s: **No real spoilers I can imagine right now.  
**Summary:** Takami is the planner.  
**Dedication:** garuru- HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I'm sorry I suck so much. ;;  
**A/N: **I'm so behind on Eyeshield so forgive me if this is inane. I WISH THEY WOULD SUB FASTER.

The first time Takami kissed Sakuraba, he knew exactly how Sakuraba would react.

Takami was a planner after all, had spent hour after hour at his computer watching, analyzing, theorizing, preparing. All of the team's game tapes, highlight tapes, paper stats, still photos. It was what he did to prepare, what gave him an edge when his physical abilities were limited in comparison to some other athletes, when he knew he didn't have as much talent as other boys. He used what he did have—knowledge, preparation, dedication.

And so he knew without having to look that the muscles in the blond's arms would immediately flex in surprise when they kissed, that his hands would fist and his breath would hitch for just a breath. And they did.

He knew how to counter those movements too, knew Sakuraba well enough to take those physical reactions—that shock, surprise, etc.—and use every bit of it to his own advantage.

So at the first touch of their lips he maneuvered those arms against his chest—wrapped his own around them-- so that they could tense against his chest, so that the other boy's hands would fist in his shirt. And he took advantage of Sakuraba's gasp—that one breath that hitched in his throat-- to push forward a little more, tip the blond's head backwards so that his chin came up and his mouth was gently forced open.

Takami kept kissing Sakuraba even when the receiver didn't respond right away, knew that the other boy's personality was similar to his in that they were both thinkers, knew that a million thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute with no coherency through the blond's head right now as he tried to adjust or evade, overpower or slip away.

Takami and Sakuraba were both thinkers. Takami knew that.

But of the two… Takami was the planner.

And so he knew the locker room wall was exactly two steps backwards from their current position (as he'd previously theorized would be the best place to spring his attack), and while Sakuraba was still pliable, still too busy thinking, he gently guided the blond backwards—one, two-- until his shoulders bumped the plaster.

The shift surprised the blond, he pulled back with a huge gasp of air then-- like Takami had expected he would-- stood leaning against the wall panting, wide-eyed and flushed, lips kiss swollen and very vaguely pink around the tips of his ears. "T-takami-senpai?" he breathed, and reached up dumbly to touch his own lips like he couldn't quite believe himself.

Takami smiled slowly then, adjusted his glasses. "Done thinking yet?" he asked calmly, and knew by hands that had loosened their grip on the front of his shirt somewhat that that was just about the case. One more push, maybe two, and he'd have an answer.

"What are you doing?" Sakuraba asked quietly, and sounded puzzled and embarrassed rather than angry.

Takami laughed, and with just one lingering glance, noticed every detail about Sakuraba's body—how he was shaking just a tiny bit, how he licked his lips, how he couldn't look Takami in the eye. How his blush went all the way down his neck, disappearing under the practice jersey to go on for however long on that pale skin that it did.

Takami wanted to find out.

"I'm kissing you," he responded after a breath instead, and knew Sakuraba was still thinking a hundred miles per second, trying to figure this out, what to do, where to run or how to cut.

But Takami had studied the receiver meticulously for a long time now. And as the planner, knew that there was nowhere to go for the blond just yet.

"I…" Sakuraba coughed then, to make his voice sound stronger than it felt. "I don't know… I mean… I…"

"Keep thinking about it," Takami encouraged him gently, and reached up to touch his cheek. "No rush."

Sakuraba chuckled at that a little bit, though it might have been to hide the slight shudder that went up and down his spine from the feather light movements of the quarterback's fingers against the line of his jaw. "I…"

Takami kissed him again.

He was the planner after all. And after countless hours of patiently watching all that footage, studying all those stats, analyzing all those interviews, he thought he had a pretty good grasp on Sakuraba's style of play, on the way the receiver went about things when it came right down to it. When everything was on the line. Third and inches, play clock running down.

Like the back of his own hand, Takami knew these things about Sakuaraba.

He knew that he was a thinker, for one.

And for another, he knew that he did his best work under pressure.

So he smiled into the kiss, put the pressure on, and waited for his player to give him something great.

Sakuraba didn't let him down.

**END**


	10. For Her

**10.**

**Title:** For Her   
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **HirumaxMamori**  
Word Count:** 999  
**Warning/s:** No spoilers I can imagine. Probably OOC though, since I don't know how to write this pairing, as much as I love it. XD;;  
**Summary:** Future fic- sometimes Mamori thinks that Hiruma just doesn't care.  
**Dedication:** requested by tsukishine on my lj.  
**A/N: **Prompt was "_Just kidding_."

* * *

"Sweet piece of ass you got there, Freshman!" someone whooped, causing Mamori to spin around, red-faced and indignant. 

One of the seniors grinned and waved at her. "Like sharp edges, do you, baby?" he purred, and his smile was so white she saw spots when she blinked. "Bet I could do you better than your little boyfriend there ever could."

His friends all laughed and high-fived in the background.

Hiruma popped his gum and kept walking.

"Hiruma!" Mamori called after, him, and glared.

He spared a look over his shoulder. "What?" he asked, nonchalantly. "You're the one who always complains about being late for class."

She gestured to the group of thugs still whistling at her.

He shrugged. "Seniors. You're the one who always complains about me picking fights."

She huffed, supposed that was true enough. "Still, it's inappropriate to talk to anyone like that. COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE!" she repeated, louder.

The group of monkeys just laughed and whistled some more.

Hiruma popped his gum. "College is inappropriate," he told her dully, and turned around and kept walking.

"Well, I still thought people would grow up a _little _when they got here," she sighed, and turned around to follow him, telling herself she was very proud of him for not breaking out the firearms and blasting away at the upperclassmen on a whim. It was an improvement. Even if he could have done a _little_ _bit more_ to defend her honor, or something.

Not that she was into that sort of thing, or anything.

But acting like he didn't even care about other guys ogling her was, well, it was like nothing had changed after high school at all.

"That was Kishimoto Kakei-- son of a politician," Hiruma explained a few moments later, like he was reading her mind. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Very powerful."

"You're letting pigs like that be rude to me because you don't want to get on the bad side of a _politician_!" she hissed, and poked him in the ribs with her pencil eraser.

He twitched. "I'm letting pigs like that be rude to you because you always say that you can take care of yourself," he reminded her, and flashed a sharp-edged smile.

She huffed. "Since when do you listen to me?"

"Since I can use everything you say against you. So, forever." He chuckled at that-- supremely self-satisfied-- and headed into the classroom ahead of her.

"Ooh!"

Even still, they ended up sitting together for the class, and since Mamori didn't know how she felt _exactly_ about the whole issue from earlier, she pestered Hiruma extra today, when he—once again—ignored every word the professor said and instead, spent the entire three hours typing away on his laptop.

Probably trading stocks or drawing up plays or something equally as unrelated to their Social Justice class as possible, knowing him.

Typical.

She was resolved to be mad at him for the rest of the week.

And she did pretty good at first too, ignoring him and walking ahead as they exited the lecture hall three hours on the dot later. Hiruma slouched around casually behind her, laptop tucked under his arm and completely unaffected by her fit of pique.

They made it as far as the Student Union before a gathering crowd caught Mamori's attention and she slowed down, only to see a large group of students standing—mouths agape—in front of a big plasma screen monitor broadcasting a late breaking news story.

"Parliament member Kishimoto Yukimura has been arrested this afternoon under suspicion of bribery, corruption, pedophilia, and embezzlement. The police are currently searching for his son, Kishimoto Kakei-kun, who is suspected of being in league with all of his father's illegal activities. An anonymous tip came to the police via E-mail scant hours ago, with important concrete evidence that led to the immediate arrest of the famous politician…"

Mamori stared.

Hiruma yawned and stretched, slipping up next to her. "Huh," he said, looking up at the headline. "What a coincidence."

She looked at him. "Pedophilia?" she asked, and looked horrified.

He shrugged. "Corruption in one area usually means corruption in all areas, I guess," he offered, philosophically.

"Hiruma!"

He grinned then, as the crowd began to grow, the increasing numbers of people trying to get a look at the TV nudging them closer together. "What?"

"What did you do?" she whispered, trying to keep the conversation between just them despite her shock.

He blinked at her. "What do you mean what did I do?" His eyes glinted, and it was as good as a confession. "I didn't do anything wrong, as far as I know."

"Don't lie to me!" she urged, and poked him in the ribs again. "You did something!"

"I didn't…"

"Hiruma!"

He blinked at her tone, pausing and looking thoughtfully torn. After a moment, he even sighed. "Well…" he began, and draped and arm over her shoulders, drawing her close under the pretense of secret confession.

"Well?" she pushed, impatient.

"I'll admit, I did lie to you earlier," he began in low tones, very close to her ear.

She shivered, waiting for the big affirmation of her suspicions.

"You see… I don't actually listen to _anything_ you say. Ever," he finished with a grin, promptly reaching down to slap her ass before heading off towards the vending machines, cackling to himself.

He bought them both peach flavored Calpico and while she sat next to him-- red-faced and not sure if she was pissed at him or not-- they watched the police drag off a crying, screaming Kishimoto Kakei in handcuffs.

"I don't like peach," she said, after the squad cars all drove off, sirens blaring.

He popped his gum. "I don't care."

She scowled at him.

Later, when she was going through her book bag, she found a bottle of grape flavored Calpico that she didn't remember putting there.

"Odd," she murmured-- and even odder-- she suddenly wasn't mad at Hiruma anymore.

**END**


	11. Teamwork

**11.**

**Title:** Teamwork  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s:** JyuumonjixSena, Kurita, Hiruma  
**Word Count:** 791  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None I can imagine  
**Summary:** Kurita plays peacemaker.   
**Dedication:** swinku's holiday gift drab! I hope this was awkward enough for you, love. XD**  
A/N:** The request was "_awkward_." And man I am out of practice writing ES21. o.o

* * *

When Kurita walked into the locker room and had his worst fears confirmed upon finding Jyuumonji-kun clearly bullying poor Sena—and rather brutally at that— he was naturally very concerned. 

"Ahh, Jyuumonji-kun! I…I thought we stopped all that!" the big center exclaimed, distressed as he moved forward to try and break the battling pair up. "Aren't we a team now? You shouldn't do that sort of thing to your teammates!"

Jyuumonji jumped up at the sound of a third voice and stared at the interloper for a moment, wide-eyed and breathing hard. Kurita did his best to stand his ground and keep his bottom lip from trembling, even though he could see bite marks on poor Sena's throat and narrow scratches along the curve of Jyuumonji's shoulder.

Despite his horror his stern expression apparently worked anyway, because Jyuumonji quickly put some distance between himself and the small runningback, standing abruptly and looking around for his shirt. Sena surreptitiously handed it to him. "Uh…" the blond began, and tried to glare even though he was very clearly blushing. Kurita was glad that the other lineman was at least ashamed of what he'd done. Fighting amongst teammates was wrong.

Sena was decidedly little less pink around the cheeks than his classmate, and cleared his throat, catching the center's attention. "Er… Kurita-san, he uh, he wasn't bullying me?" he began, and straightened his rumpled jersey down around his hips a little, nervously.

"B-but you sounded like he was really hurting you just now," Kurita protested. "And…and your neck…I… are you okay, Sena?"

Jyuumonji turned absolutely beet red.

"I'm fine!" Sena assured the second year hastily. "Really! Um… he was… I mean, that is… he and I…"

"Stretching," Jyuumonji suggested, suddenly inspired. "I was uh… helpin' him stretch out his legs."

"And back," Sena added, because considering how Kurita had found them, that made much more sense.

"And back," Jyuumonji amended, quickly. "For sports."

"Football," Sena reminded him.

"Right. Football. I was stretching him. For that. And not anything else. I mean, any other sports. Practice." Pause. "Um, the bites are from… his… dog?"

For some reason, that made Sena go bright red. "R-right," he echoed, voice shaky. "My…dog. He's uh… really playful."

Jyuumonji, for some reason, looked mildly offended.

Sena shrugged helplessly at him.

Kurita blinked at them. "Eh…r-really?"

"Uh yeah," Jyuumonji answered, quickly. "Anyway… Sena's all um, stretched…er, ready now. For practice. In football."

Kurita looked at the other lineman carefully. "Are you okay, Jyuumonji-kun? You seem… kinda… tired?"

Sena nearly fell off the changing bench.

"Er… just warmed up, Kurita-san," Jyuumonji assured him, and shifted on his feet a bit uncomfortably. "Warmed up good?"

Sena choked on his own spit.

Kurita breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. So uh… you two aren't fighting after all?"

The two freshmen shared a look. "Nope!" they said in unison, quickly. "Not at all."

Kurita looked sheepish for having had the wrong idea about the two of them this whole time, the big lineman touching the ends of his index fingers together apologetically. "You guys really scared me for a second there," he admitted, shyly. "When Hiruma said you were in the locker room banging one another again I was so worried that you two were mad at each other!"

Jyuumonji and Sena stared. "Eh?!"

Kurita blinked at their surprise. "Is…is something the matter?"

When Sena looked like he was about to say something, Jyuumonji quickly grabbed his wrist. "Nothing. We're um, gonna go now. To practice. While we're… uh, still stretched."

He quickly pulled Sena towards the door.

"Hiruma-san knows!" Sena whispered once they were out of Kurita's hearing range, and pink-faced with horror at the concept, he lengthened his strides in order to keep up with Jyuumonji's longer-legged pace, managing (somehow) not to bury his face into the blond's side in the process.

"He always knows," Jyuumonji responded, looking just as embarrassed as he was resigned to the fact. "Just hope he doesn't have _pictures_ this time."

Sena gaped. "_Pictures_?!" he exclaimed, horrified. But then he paused and blinked. "Wait… what does he have pictures of you doing?"

Jyuumonji coughed and continued to pull Sena towards the field, only faster now. "Right, time for practice."

Hiruma, listening in from his hidden network of secret microphones, thought that the couple might appreciate the fact that he didn't actually have any photographs of the two of them. Yet.

However, he may—or may not— have had something on his _video_ camera.

But as always, it was up to the two of them as to whether he would ever have to _use_ it.

For now, he thought he'd let them enjoy a brief honeymoon period, living in blissful ignorance.

He wasn't a _complete _monster after all.

**END**


	12. Crime and Punishment

**12.**

**Title:** Crime and Punishment  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s:** lightly JyuumonjixSena, Hiruma, Yukimitsu, Hiruma**  
Word Count:** 498  
**Warning/s:** None I can imagine  
**Summary:** Sena has more than his own team's welfare riding on his back.  
**Dedication:** swinku's request on my other lj! Are you feeling better yet, m'dear?  
**A/N: **The request was "_punishment_." Thanks to my brother for telling me what positions turn into what when characters have to play both ways.

* * *

Everyone who isn't Hiruma is beginning to see a pattern in the flow of the Devilbats' games. 

Hiruma is only omitted from the aforementioned group because he's already known about the pattern for months now. It goes something like this:

Offensive play- a linebacker tackles Sena.

Defensive play- Jyuumonji tackles the linebacker-turned-fullback. And crushes him.

Offensive play- Sena blocks so Monta can receive, and gets knocked over by a cut block from the defensive back.

Defensive play- Jyuumonji tackles the defensive-back-turned-receiver. And crushes him.

Offensive play- Sena dodges the linebackers but gets taken out by the safety. The safety sneers down at him and spits in the dirt near his hand.

Defensive play- Jyuumonji picks up the safety-turned-runningback. And crushes him. Hard.

"It's like a heat seeking missile," Yukimitsu marvels.

"That breaks people's legs," Monta adds, as they wait for the ambulance to arrive during the injury timeout the other team called. They all hear the wail of sirens and the receiver winces in sympathy. "It would suck to go out like that just for an exhibition game."

"Mm," Yukimitsu agrees, and does well to stand far away from Jyuumonji.

Hiruma is as unperturbed as ever, and simply grins before taking Sena aside.

"Y-yes?" the small runningback asks, and looks rightfully nervous at being asked to talk one-on-one with Hiruma.

"That's too bad about the guy's leg, huh?" Hiruma starts, innocuously.

Sena nods. "It's horrible when people get injured." Pause. "But it's not Jyuumonji-san's fault!" he feels the need to add, in case Hiruma is implying something.

The blond's eyes glint dangerously at the smaller boy's ready defense of his teammate. "You're right," the quarterback agrees, somewhat unpredictably. "It's not his fault."

Sena breathes in relief.

"It's your fault."

Sena tenses right back up again—eyes wide as saucers. "What do you mean it's my fault?!"

Hiruma grins. "You have an attack dog," he drawls, and points over to Jyuumonji, who is over by the bench drenching his head in cold water before shaking it off fiercely. Not, unlike a dog, really. When the blond looks up and sees Sena watching him, he offers a vaguely crooked smile before he realizes what he's doing and quickly looks away.

Sena blinks.

"An attack dog?" he murmurs, before turning back to Hiruma in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Every time you get hit," Hiruma explains, "your dog attacks."

He waits a moment then, to let Sena put all the pieces together himself— to remember every play of the game.

Three…two…one. The runningback's eyes widen.

Hiruma's grin broadens, and he slaps Sena on the back, hard enough to send the smaller boy stumbling forward a couple of steps. "Their welfare is in your hands," he declares. "Better run faster."

And then he cackles and heads back to the bench to plan his next move.

Sena watches the EMTS rushing onto the exhibition field with a stretcher and an oxygen tank.

He swallows and wonders if Jyuumonji-san can be taught to heel.

**END**


	13. Overexuberant

**13.**

**Title:** Overenthusiastic  
**Rating:** PG-15  
**Pairing/Character/s: **JyuumonjixSena**  
Word Count:** 658  
**Warning/s:** OOC. GOD THE OOC. But it was fun. XD  
**Summary:** Jyuumonji does a few things he regrets. Ah, the power of youth.  
**Dedication:** swinku- YOU DELIVER SO I DELIVER TOO. I LOVE YOU.  
**A/N: **Hehe just writing something silly and pointless was lots of fun. I haven't done it in a while. XD

* * *

"Shit," Jyuumonji cursed vehemently, and began pacing back and forth across the floor anxiously, brow furrowed with something very close to worry. Panic, maybe. "Fuck. Fuckin' shit."

Sena sighed and rested his chin on his knees as he watched the other boy tread around his very small room like a big, restless lion. "It's okay, Jyuumonji-kun," he moved to say, soothingly. "I'll um…I'll tell him it was from working out too hard?"

Which, he supposed, wasn't exactly a lie.

But the blond just paused in his pacing to stare incredulously at the runningback. "Are you kidding me? He'll know. He always knows. Fuck, the bastard probably _already _knows."

When Sena noticed that little Vee in Jyuumonji's forehead that said he was genuinely worried the smaller boy frowned and moved to stand, to maybe offer some sort of physical comfort if his words weren't cutting it.

Bad idea.

"The hell are you doing?!" Jyuumonji panicked, and without thinking, pushed Sena back down onto the bed hastily. "Rest, dumbass! You shouldn't move!"

"Ow," Sena winced, when his backside hit the mattress again.

A beat.

They looked at each other.

"Oh god I'm sorry," the lineman began, when he realized. "Punch me in the face later or something. I am the king of bastards."

Sena stared, incredulously. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. Never mind. Hiruma's gonna killme first anyway."

Sena sighed, shifting gingerly so he was more comfortably situated amongst the pillows and blankets. "He'll understand." Pause. "Maybe."

Jyuumonji just blinked at him.

Sena coughed. "He'll probably only make you run fifty extra laps at most," he reiterated more realistically, after a moment.

The larger boy groaned at the verdict and plopped down on the other side of the bed. "It was a really long break!" he complained, burying his face in his pillow. "I can't be held responsible for my actions after something like that."

Sena laughed gently and nestled down next to the fretting blond, resting his cheek on Jyuumonji's arm so he could enjoy the warmth. "You were gone a really long time," he agreed, softly.

"I'm never going anywhere with that shitty old man ever again," Kazuki vowed, turning his head sideways and cracking an eye to regard a slightly bemused Sena. "Even if you think we ought to try and understand one another better or whatever."

Sena sweatdropped. "I guess it didn't work? I mean…bonding with your dad?"

"Drove me crazy the whole damn time," Jyuumonji grunted, and flexed the bicep Sena was resting his cheek against, bumping the smaller boy in some sort of 'I told you so' exasperation. "What a waste of our vacation."

Sena flushed slightly at the implications of the other boy's words—the _other _things they could have been doing on vacation if Jyuumonji's father hadn't whisked the blond away for a quote-un-quote family vacation. "Well you uh, you made up for lost time last night?" the runningback offered after a moment, by way of consolation.

Which didn't work at all, as it only brought Jyuumonji back to his current reason for cursing fate. "Hiruma's gonna _kill_ me," he muttered.

Sena sighed and slid closer to the larger boy, carefully. He patted his boyfriend's shoulder. "At least we don't have a game until next week. I'm sure I'll be able to run straight again by then."

"Never again," Jyuumonji vowed. "I am never doing that again. Why the hell did that shitty old man have to take us to the goddamned Cayman Islands?!"

"He was just… trying," Sena said, quietly. Then felt the need to add, "At least you don't have to explain any property damage to _your _parents." He looked up at the area of wall right above the headboard of his bed, where two brand-new (large) and vaguely-hand-shaped cracks in the plaster were very, very visible.

"God I'm sorry," the blond groaned again.

Sena just laughed and kissed the back of his neck. "Welcome home."

**END**


	14. Safe Sex

**14.**

**Title:** Safe Sex  
**Rating:** PG-15  
**Pairing/Character/s: **JyuumonjixSena, Mamori**  
Word Count:** 909  
**Warning/s:** OOC, slight pron, CRACK. Stupidity. Lameness. No spoilers though!  
**Summary:** Jyuumonji gets a crash course in sex ed.  
**Dedication:** afire- this should have been porn, but it ended up being crack instead. YOU KNOW ME.  
**A/N: **It's 2 in the morning. Coherence has left.

* * *

Today, Jyuumonji mused to himself ruefully, was not a good day.

It had started out well enough—he'd gotten breakfast, an A on his math test, and made it to the convenience store before the best kind of yakisoba bread had been sold out. He'd met Sena after they'd finished eating, and the two of them had got to fooling around in the abandoned lockeroom for the rest of the lunch break.

So yeah, not a bad start.

But then, right as he'd been making his way into what he liked to call hand-in-pants-happy-land, things started to go downhill.

The door had been opened and an oblivious Anezaki had strolled in (presumably to get ahead in her managerial duties), only to pause in horror at what she was seeing when she entered the small club room.

Jyuumonji supposed she'd gotten an eyeful of a large, very dangerous-looking lineman (and known delinquent-slash-bully) pinning her precious Sena to the wall.

He'd ended up with a shrieked, "Jyuumonji-kun, what are you _doing_?!" immediately after that, on the heels of which followed a rather fiercely wielded clipboard being slammed against the back of the head.

Sena had sputtered and managed to say about a billion things that weren't actually words (which hadn't helped the situation), though Jyuumonji supposed—in retrospect— that her thinking that he was beating the hell out of the runningback was preferable to the truth in the long run after all.

However, the fact that both of their pants were unzipped became startlingly apparent after the blow to the head had toppled him like a house of cards (she hit _hard_), and after a three-count beat, the raging manager had paused, figured things out (she was a smart one), and promptly turned bright red.

"Oh _Sena_," she'd murmured, and had one hand over her mouth in demure shock.

Which, Jyuumonji knew, was a friggin' lie, because she hit like she had man-hands.

But either way, here they were. Sitting side by side and looking repentant while Mamori paced in front of them, giving Jyuumonji the third degree.

"You're serious about this?" she asked, sternly, and eyed him suspiciously.

Sena blushed.

Jyuumonji squirmed. "Well…yeah," he said after a beat, and thought he would _die of embarrassment_. How uncool.

"You're not just toying with him? He's very delicate, you know!"

Sena blinked.

Jyuumonji fought to keep from laughing at _that_, because they'd done _much wilder things_ than quickies in the lockeroom during lunch and Sena hadn't broken yet. But, he supposed, the smaller boy probably would like to keep that knowledge between the two of them, and he'd better speak up before Anezaki thought he was being a playboy and hit him again.

So for Sena's sake (and his own), Jyuumonji did his best to look reputable. "I'll treat him real nice," he promised gruffly, cheeks pink.

Sena blushed some more.

Mamori studied him. "Are you two having sex?"

Jyuumonji choked on his own spit.

Sena was mortified.

Mamori sighed. "I'll take that as a yes."

Neither boy said anything.

"Are you having _safe_ sex?"

Both boys stared.

Mamori studied them both, critically.

They didn't say anything, and Jyuumonji thought he might actually _die_ of mortification right then and there, under her unwavering gaze and the knowledge that yes, she was evaluating the kind of sex he had with Sena in her head _right now_.

Jyuumonji waited to be throttled.

But then, after another three count, she simply sighed and turned her clip board over. Pulled out her dry erase marker professionally, and began to write on it.

Right there, on the play board, she drew two stick figures. Having sex. Like she did it every day.

She didn't even bat an eye.

Which was all bad enough as was, but when she wrote "Sexually Transmitted Diseases" on the top of her illustrations like a freaking _banner_, Jyuumonji almost fell off the changing bench.

Truth be told, the lineman would have preferred being socked in the face.

"Pay attention, I'm going to give you both a test at the end," she said sternly, and meant every word of it as she began her lecture.

"H-hai!" Sena agreed by rote, and Jyuumonji promised himself that he would never, ever criticize the smaller boy for being such a wimp around Anezaki-senpai ever again.

Sometime later, when he was dutifully rolling a condom onto a banana after checking it for holes (the condom, not the banana), he made a mental note that from this day forward, all mid-day lunchtime quickies were to be had in the men's bathroom on the second floor.

Because that way, if anyone walked in on them, there was a high percentage chance that Jyuumonji could just _kill _them and be done with it.

Which, he thought, would be about seven billion times easier than trying to spell out 'gonorrhea' on his quiz sheet in English.

Sena must have been thinking along similar lines, because once they were released (i.e. once both had made perfect 100s on their tests), the small runningback sighed and said, "Next time someone walks in on us, just punch me in the face and take my lunch money, ne?"

And while the thought horrified him, Jyuumonji had to admit—however fleetingly—that had he done that earlier, the results would have been far less painful than what they'd ended up experiencing just now.

He didn't even want to know _where_ Anezaki had gotten those condoms from.

**END**


	15. Phone Conversations

**Title:** Phone Conversations  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing/Character/s: **MontaxTaka-ish (appearances by Yamato and Achilles)**  
Word Count:** 982  
**Warning/s:** spoilers through the current chapter (318).**  
Summary:** Monta calls Taka.**  
Dedication:** sdfl;jk I don't know who else is caught up with Eyeshield. LOL how about sw-inku and shiroro for old time's sake. XD  
**A/N: **YAY MORE CRACK PAIRINGS. Why do I only fall for these. WHY.

* * *

When Taka exchanges phone numbers with Monta he considers it nothing more than a ceremonial act of acknowledgement between the two of them, a show that they recognize each other on a level that means they consider each other peers.

He doesn't for a moment think that Monta will actually use it to call him.

But he does.

The first call comes a few days after the Christmas Bowl, following what Taka assumes is the presentation ceremony of the championship trophy to Deimon High's trophy case.

"Taka-san!" Monta cries into the receiver when he calls, sounding like they're old friends, "Taka-san they put it in the case right next to the basketball team's trophy and the wrestling team's trophy and it looks max beautiful! All our names, all our names are carved in the front!"

Under normal circumstances Taka might have taken it as a challenge of some sort, as a barb against Teikoku's failure to secure the championship for the first time since its history.

But coming from Monta it simply feels like there can't be any malice behind the words, that the smaller receiver is calling to express his joy because only someone who has experienced the exact same things as he has can understand his full elation and his full gratitude.

"That's very nice," Taka finds himself responding eventually, pausing in his novel reading by placing his fingers in the book to mark his place. "Did they hold an assembly for you?"

"Yes!" Monta burbles, clearly in tears, nose full of snot and blubbering shamelessly into the receiver. "I'm max sorry to bother you, Taka-san, but I just didn't think anyone else would understand exactly what I'm feeling right now."

Taka surprises himself when he says, "It's fine. I understand."

The gain and loss of a title, the lifelong ambition of a father and a decade's worth of idol worship had all been changed that day on the field, between the two of them.

They'd battled on land and sky to stand where they are now.

And they both became better for it, for having met each other and faced each other.

"I understand," Taka says again after a moment, and spends the next twenty minutes listening to Monta sob into the receiver about his teammates and the work he did and how much he still admires Taka's father and Taka both and how he'll always train to get stronger so he can look them in the eye, no matter what.

"Yes, yes," Taka finds himself murmuring every now and again, and wonders to himself if he will ever get to feel like that about the game himself someday.

Maybe if he beats Monta, he thinks. Maybe.

* * *

The second time Monta calls him is after they've been picked as members for the All-Japan team.

"To get to fight together with Taka-san will be a max honor," Monta declares ecstatically, and once again, Taka can feel every single wave of overpowering emotion in the smaller receiver's voice.

It unconsciously makes him feel some stirrings of excitement in the periphery of his own emotions, something that only Raimon Tarou can seem to bring out in the normally calm, normally collected him.

"I look forward to being teammates as well," Taka replies eventually, and forgets about the book he is currently reading altogether.

"So," Monta begins after a moment of silence, "what are you packing for the trip to New York?"

Taka is so surprised by the casual question that he actually finds himself laughing, just a little.

Monta is immediately mortified. "I mean! That's a max dumb question, right?" he exclaims sheepishly. "I was just…I started to pack and I was wondering what we'd need."

"The association will provide all the necessary equipment," Taka informs him calmly. "So no, it's not a dumb question. I'm bringing some books with me for the long trip."

"Eh, Taka-san sure likes to read, huh," Monta responds. "I was thinking of bringing some chips to eat and my lucky baseball card collection."

"Which cards are your lucky ones?" Taka finds himself asking, before he quite knows why.

Monta spends the next half hour happily listing the name and the year of each one, player stats included.

Taka leaves his book—place unmarked—on his nightstand as he listens.

* * *

The third call comes after the plane back from New York has landed back in Japan, after the game has been played and the team has split up to go home in separate directions.

"Taka-san," Monta says into his phone, sounding just a little bit nervous despite the fact that they had all just seen one another not too long ago, "Taka-san even if the season is over and even though I won't see you anymore, is it okay to keep calling? If you're busy I understand max."

"Who is that?" Yamato asks from beside Taka, on the train to Osaka. "You're making a strange face, Taka."

Taka ignores him. "It's okay," he tells Monta instead. "I don't mind talking with you."

"Max great!" Monta exclaims, and there it is again, that rush of happiness that Taka can hear, that reaches through the distance and slams into him even as they go in opposite directions.

"So," Monta begins eventually, once he's calmed down some, "what are you going to eat for dinner tonight?"

Taka has to cover his mouth to hide his smile.

"Something weird is going on with Taka," Achilles announces from the seat across from him. "Did he pick up a virus in America?"

"Maybe," Yamato murmurs, still looking at Taka oddly.

Taka ignores his teammates and tells Monta, "Udon."

* * *

The fourth time they talk on the phone, Taka calls Monta first.

"Do you want to come over this weekend?" he asks quietly. "In the summer my dad likes to barbeque."

He has to hold the receiver a full arm's length away when Monta responds.

**END**


	16. Push

**16.**

**Title:** Push  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing/Character/s: **Jyuumonji, Kakei (Sena and Shin in the background). I guess you can see part of it as KakeixJyuu fight-sexual if you want, and light JyuuxSena love. **  
Word Count:** 740  
**Warning/s:** Spoilers for up to chapter 278  
**Summary:** Kakei teaches Jyuumonji.**  
Dedication:** juin's request (sort of) for today's request meme.  
**A/N: **Ahaha this was supposed to be better than it turned out I swear.

* * *

"All he has is running," Kakei assesses flatly that afternoon, while he and Jyuumonji watch Sena and Shin sprint their vicious ninety degree cuts around each other at the speed of light.

Jyuumonji moves to protest on instinct. "He's got more than…"

"What I mean is that he's the kind of idiot who won't think about protecting himself," Kakei clarifies. "All he'll do is take the ball Hiruma gives him and run straight ahead with it. Even if it kills him."

Jyuumonji slumps in the shoulders a little bit. "You noticed that too, huh?"

Kakei nods. "You'll fix that."

Jyuumonji blinks. "Huh? Me?"

Kakei stands up, pulls his gloves on. "Come on. You can help protect him."

"_I_ can?"

"Yes. I'll show you how." Pause. Smile. "First, I'll show you from what."

Jyuumonji isn't sure he likes the sound of that.

Ten minutes later his feelings are justified when he and Kakei are crashing into each other on the field at full speed.

Jyuumonji aims for Kakei's shoulders to stop him in his tracks; Kakei reads his intentions and steps sideways around the blond lineman in one easy, fluid motion. Then he moves to grab Jyuumonji at the waist, thinking that by upsetting the lineman's center of balance, he'll be able to throw him to the ground easily.

Demonstration over.

But then Jyuumonji realizes what Kakei means to do mid-step and stops his own forward momentum first, managing to take a wider stance and push _backwards _before Kakei can properly use his own inertia to knock him over.

Kakei is impressed; he ends up having to wrap his arms around Jyuumonji in an attempt to cut off his range of motion while using his body weight to pull the resisting blond down with. It makes for a longer demonstration than he'd initially had in mind, but even still, Kakei has the better position and better leverage; he'll knock the younger player over eventually.

"This is how it is," Kakei grunts into Jyuumonji's ear, while he braces himself for the moment that Jyuumonji will buckle under the combination of Kakei's weight and the pull of gravity.

"It…it felt like this?" Jyuumonji mutters between pants, the blond noting how tightly Kakei's arms are wrapped around his waist, how unrelenting the press the of Kakei's chest against his back is as they push and pull against each other. "Every time you tackled him, it was like this?"

"Worse," Kakei acknowledges lowly, through clenched teeth. "He didn't have the strength to fight me this much."

Jyuumonji tenses then, and Kakei can see the sweat beading on the thick cords of the blond's neck as he resists Kakei's off-balancing force as fiercely as he is able. "Goddammit!" Jyuumonji growls in frustration, and Kakei finds his opening a second later, when Jyuumonji tries to twist sideways. The more experienced player moves the moment when Jyuumonji's weight has shifted right; he lowers his head a little more and butts into Jyuumonji's shoulder with the curve of his helmet.

Eventually, the lineman's stance gives and he finally falls forward, though not without taking Kakei with him to the ground first.

They lie just like that for a moment afterwards, tangled up in each other and breathing heavily. Kakei can feel Jyuumonji's ragged panting against the inside of his elbow, the trickle of sweat from Jyuumonji's brow along his forearm.

Then, Jyuumonji grunts and shoves Kakei off of him. He rolls onto his back cursing.

For a little while after that, all they can hear are the frantic pounding of their own pulses in their ears, over the distant patter of Sena and Shin as they cut corners around each other at the speed of light. "It feels like that, huh?" Jyuumonji wheezes disbelievingly before too long, arms and shoulders shaking from exertion.

"Yes," Kakei murmurs, surprisingly exerted himself. He thinks that Deimon players have all come a very long way in a very short amount of time. "It feels just like that. With Teitoku it will probably be worse."

Jyuumonji seems to come to a decision when he hears that, and pushes himself to his feet again. "I'm gonna protect him," he declares. "From that. Or worse."

Kakei smiles crookedly and climbs to his feet as well. "You will."

Jyuumonji immediately lines up for the next clash. "Show me how," he says.

Kakei takes the line facing him and nods. "Yes."

He likes the look in Jyuumonji's eyes.

**END**


	17. Raimon Tarou is Almost Invincible

**Title:** Raimon Tarou is Almost Invincible  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing/Character/s: **lightly, vaguely MontaxTaka (with appearances by Yamato and mentions of Shin, Sena, Sakuraba, and Hiruma)**  
Word Count:** 620  
**Warning/s:** Spoilers up to 320-ish, to be safe.**  
Summary:** Monta grows taller. Taka doesn't worry.**  
Dedication:** Ahaha I don't know, sw-inku. Love this pairing with me mmmkay.  
**A/N: **I need to think of something to write that involves GaouxAgon OTP. Because YES. But for now, have this.

* * *

It finally happens during the middle of Monta's second year playing football, the sudden and miraculous growth spurt that shoots him up so that the rest of him is finally in proportion to his ridiculously large hands and feet.

He is ecstatic when they have to change his stats in the player guidebook and babbles to Taka about it over the phone at least five times during the course of their long-distance correspondence; now when he opens it up to his page it reads, "_Raimon Tarou: WR, 188cm_."

"Shit," his past and future opponents think, when they see him again at the beginning of the fall season, during an exhibition match between Deimon and Ojou that they happen to all be in the area for, _no scouting intended_. In either case they know from watching old footage of Deimon games that it had already been near impossible to stop Raimon's catches before, but now it's just completely unfair.

Their theories are proven right when Monta takes a running leap for a high ball and sails in an arc _over_ Sakuraba, before landing on his feet behind the blond, right inside the endzone.

He still screams that ridiculous "Catch MAX!" of his whenever he comes up victorious, and strikes a pose while the Deimon half of the audience cheers and most of his potential opponents bury their faces in their hands and wonder how badly they are going to be beaten during the regular season if it looks like Sakuraba can't even counter attack.

Taka however, doesn't bury his face in his hands like the others; he just glances up from the book he is reading every so often and watches the game with a kind of warm appreciation, with the kind of anticipation that he'd never once felt for football until he'd met Raimon Tarou in the Christmas Bowl last year.

"You seem relatively calm all things considered, Taka," Yamato points out wryly from beside the receiver, and can't help but look slightly pained himself when Sena shows off the brand new Kobe Bryant-esque fake left, fake right, hesitate, spin, duck, and then dash forward combination that he must have learned during that top-secret training camp Hiruma had taken all of Deimon to in Los Angeles during the winter holidays.

Taka just blinks and looks back at his teammate. "Why wouldn't I be calm?"

As if to answer, on the field, Monta intercepts a long pass by Ojou's new rookie quarterback and flips it underhanded to Sena across the field, in another oddly basketball reminiscent combo play.

They get to mid-field before Shin manages to steamroll Sena out of the sideline by sheer force of will.

Yamato sighs. "Monta's your rival, isn't he?" he presses, and is already absently formulating potential counter-attacks to Sena's new moves in his head. "I know you and your father invited him to your private conditioning camp during the summer, but aren't you the least bit worried now that he's gained an enormous physical advantage also?"

Taka shrugs. "I know his weak points already," he states, quite plainly.

Yamato stares. "After seeing that just now, you already know how you're going to beat him??"

Taka allows a ghost of a smile, and the mere sight of it makes Yamato wonder if he is suddenly in a different dimension, courtesy of Sena's last time-smashing run. "Yes," the long-haired receiver replies. "I do."

He goes back to his book and doesn't say anything else after that, because he thinks it's funny when the mighty emperor himself is too boggled to respond.

Besides, Taka isn't sure Yamato would believe him if he said he'd spent most of his summer holidays carefully discovering all of Monta's ticklish spots anyway.

**END**


	18. Boom! Smash!

**18.**

**Title:** Boom! Smash!  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **Gaou, Agon (Sena, Monta, Hiruma, Kurita, Shin, and Achilles also present)**  
Word Count:** 995  
**Warning/s:** Spoilers for chapters 306+ (and some ridiculous violence)  
**Summary:** They can't break each other (but not from lack of trying).**  
Dedication:** UM, lol how about juin. ARE YOU CAUGHT UP YET?  
**A/N: **These two are amazing okay.

* * *

The All-Japan team's return flight from America is terrifying.

It starts when Gaou may or may not accidentally rip off the armrest of the seat he is in, because not all of him can quite fit into it. Shin magnanimously decides not to comment when Gaou ends up spilling into half of his space, most likely because Shin thinks that suffering hardship can make you stronger.

"Great, they're adjustable after all," Gaou says obliviously, before grinning and tossing the detached armrest over his shoulder.

What follows is a soft _thunk_ as the jagged bit of metal lands a few feet behind Gaou. After that there is a moment of dead silence, and then the sudden and chilling rise of a murderous aura that screams for death and vengeance.

"Oh god we're all going to die," Monta hisses to Sena from his seat across the aisle, as the two of them stare at a silently seething Agon and the crushed remains of Gaou's armrest as it sits where it landed on top of his head.

Much to the horror of the smaller Deimon players watching, Agon then proceeds to rise out of his seat like an angry spirit, rage prompting his dreadlocks to rear up around him like the snakes of Medusa as he crumples the armrest into a ball _with his bare hands _and pitches it with sniper-like accuracy at the back of Gaou's head. "I'll kill you, fucking trash!" he declares, lip curled manically.

The armrest shatters. Gaou blinks. Turns around. Sees Agon. "What," he asks, and absently sticks his finger into his nose, "you want something?"

Agon bristles. "Fucking die!" he shouts, climbing over the seats to follow through.

He slams into Gaou with a force strong enough to shake the entire aircraft.

The captain dutifully flips on the fasten seatbelt sign.

"You bored too?" Gaou realizes a beat later, when he suddenly finds both of Agon's hands wrapped around his throat.

Off to the side, Achilles looks thoughtful. "Ah, a seat trade," he realizes out loud to himself, when he sees Agon perched with perfect balance on the remaining armrest between his and Gaou's seats. He shrugs and gets up to go take Agon's instead, wondering when those two got to be such good friends.

"What's wrong with you guys?" he asks casually, when he passes by Monta and Sena on his way to his new seat and sees the Deimon pair clinging to each other and sobbing.

Back in the front, the plane shakes again when Agon manages to pull one of the _chairs _out of the floor and tries using it like a bat against the ball that he's decided is Gaou's face. Shin remains resolutely buckled in his seat—as per safety regulations and the lighted placard indicates— all while dodging the crushed metal and suitcase shards flying through the air by using upper body movements only. He considers it good training for the long flight back.

"Hiruma, do something!" Kurita begs from nearby, as he instinctively tries to shield his aislemates from flying debris.

Hiruma dutifully presses the flight attendant call button. Kurita sighs in relief.

"Yes?" an elderly American stewardess asks when she arrives a few minutes later. Hiruma pops gum. "I need some earplugs," he tells her, without looking up from his laptop. "It's fucking noisy."

"Of course!" She scurries off to comply.

Hiruma smiles while Kurita cries a little, alongside Monta and Sena.

In the meantime, Gaou and Agon are running out of things to smash into each other and settle for their fists instead, because clearly everything else is weak and pathetic and crumbles to dust too easily.

Agon's fist slams into Gaou's chest. Nothing gives.

Gaou's arm wraps around Agon's head. And squeezes.

Nothing gives. Except maybe the structural integrity of the aircraft.

"We seem to be experiencing some turbulence," the captain chimes in, needlessly.

Sena and Monta start to pray.

And eventually, the old flight attendant returns with Hiruma's earplugs. She pauses for a moment when she sees Gaou and Agon wrapped up around each other with the armrests between their chairs missing.

She smiles. "Your two certainly are close!" she twitters fondly, and hands Hiruma the little plastic baggy. "I haven't seen young men hugging that tightly since those gays that flew with us last month!"

And for another, terrifying moment, the entire aircraft goes dead silent again.

Hiruma absently pops his gum and takes the earplugs. "Get me some Ginger Ale too," he adds to the stewardess like an afterthought, while the rest of his team silently resigns themselves to a watery grave when Agon and Gaou's rage battle explodes and they crash into the depths of the ocean.

They imagine that the headline will read something like this: "Stewardess's Horrible Misconception Destroys All of Japan's Future Football Prospects as Plane Combusts into Fiery Ball of Flaming Wreckage and Death." Except maybe shorter and catchier, since Americans seem to like that.

They all anxiously turn back to Gaou and Agon.

Who are no longer fighting.

"Fucking never touch me again, stupid trash," Agon mutters to Gaou, all rage suddenly gone (as evidenced by his dreadlocks hanging limply on his shoulders). "Stupid fucking Americans," he adds because he feels the need to, before hunkering down in Achilles' (former) seat and going to sleep.

"Hahaha I haven't bled like this in a while," Gaou murmurs to himself randomly, like he's talking about a mosquito bite. He shakes bits of glass and steel out of his hair and pushes the flight attendant call button. "I want Ginger Ale too."

There is now a clear one foot marker between any parts of their bodies.

Sena, Monta, and Kurita look at Hiruma with tears of joy in their eyes.

"Hiruma is amazing," Kurita whimpers, while Hiruma uses his earplugs to very easily ignore them.

In the meantime, Shin blinks and wonders what other training he can find to do for the rest of the flight.

**END**


End file.
